


my bed (my rules)

by Anonymous



Series: The Chronicles of Barbatius [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Timestamp to ‘Sit on my face (and let my lips embrace you)’
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 00:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18884560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Clarke is jittery, to say the least. She wasn’t lying, no, oh no. Definitely not.She is excited to play out this fantasy.Clarke and Bellamy have been dating for months now, and she wants this.She wants this. So. Bad.In fact, it was her idea. Her bestest idea so far, not counting that time she jumped on the occasion and got together with Bellamy. Even if they had sex first and talked later, and their first sort of kiss involved him eating her out.Okay. Deep breath. One peek at the dress.Truth be told, it’s a flimsy excuse for a dress.It’s just some fabric sewed together at parts and she calls it a costume. (So sheer, really, it hardly leaves anything to the imagination.)





	my bed (my rules)

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: There is a reference towards the end to Avengers: Endgame. I don’t think it’s an explicit spoiler but you’ve been warned.  
> #  
> The parts in italics are referencing Bellamy's erotic fiction, _The Chronicles of Barbatius_

#

 

“Are you sure about this?”

Bellamy is so sweet for asking this question for the fourth time today, but really.

She is.

“Yeah, stop mothering me.”

She smiles, stretches up on her tiptoes and pecks him on the lips.

“It was my idea, remember?”

His lips curve into a shy a smile in answer, letting his hand cup her face and his thumb smoothing across her cheek.

“Okay. I just want you to know that we can stop anytime if —“

“—Bell, it’s okay. I want this. Now go and get yourself comfortable on the couch, I still gotta go and change and prepare myself a little for the grand debut.”

His other hand, that was wrapped around her waist, slowly crawls down to the swell of her ass and squeezes. Once.

He leans in and kisses her.

And then they part and Bellamy leaves to give her some space.

Clarke is jittery, to say the least. She wasn’t lying, no, oh no.

Definitely not.

She is excited to play out this fantasy.

Clarke and Bellamy have been dating for months now, and she wants this.

She wants this. So. Bad.

In fact, it was her idea. Her bestest idea so far, not counting that time she jumped on the occasion and got together with Bellamy. Even if they had sex first and talked later, and their first sort of kiss involved him eating her out.

Okay.

Deep breath.

One peek at the dress.

Truth be told, it’s a flimsy excuse for a dress.

It’s just some fabric sewed together at parts and she calls it a costume.

(So sheer, really, it hardly leaves anything to the imagination.)

 

#

 

_Princess Caecia doesn’t know what possessed her at that moment, a moment of weakness, for him, she reasons hours later—but seeing him covered in so much blood and bruises... in pain... did things to her._

_She sneaked into his chambers after the arena and cleaned his wounds first, as always. His forehead was still heavily coated in sweat, parts of his dark hair not clinging to his soaked skin somehow standing in every other way._

_He was mostly out of it, while she worked on him._

_He looked so peaceful and soft and young like this, sleeping. And when she was done cleaning the cuts and scrapes and bruises, massaging his thighs with the ointment, it was the softness of his sleeping face, the tantalizing freckles all over his taut muscles and his growing erection on display really that did it._

_She dropped to her knees, dragging the fabric down very slowly, brushing her nose along the patch of hair uncovered bit by bit, breathing deep and heavy, as she freed his erect manhood._

_She wasn’t planning on putting her mouth on him like this._

_Not like this._

_Alas, temptation had been always running high, burning her from the inside when she was this close to him._

_She knew it was wrong._

_(Or was it?)_

_Her tongue was mapping the vein on the side of his shaft when she heard his gasp turning into a groan before his sword hand find its way up and up on her neck._

_A little nudge._

_That was all the encouragement she needed, in the end, to envelop him fully in her mouth._

_Hardly two minutes later and he was panting harder than ever, his voice impossibly deep and so sinful, muttering words of encouragement, before he lost all control he had and he was coming hard into her mouth._

_She savours the taste even hours later_.

 

#

 

Bellamy has moved around the furniture in the room by the time she enters. The little coffee table that is usually in front of the couch is now pushed away to the window, and there are various thick quilts laid in a thick layer of carpet on the floor; fluffy colourful pillows Clarke didn’t even know he owned are scattered all over it.

Her heart is racing harder at the sight.

Bellamy is dressed, or rather dressed down and only covered by a burgundy blanket like a toga.

Shit.

The colour compliments his dark skin in an enticing way and—

He looks so hot.

She is going to snap before they even get to the main event; to the part where Barbatius teases the Princess (Clarke) about always coming back to him for more despite swearing on Goddess Artemis and everything that the last time had been the last time, for real. Before his small touches, barely a whisper of the tips of his fingers positively burn her, wherever he touches or kisses her skin; edging her into submission, into a trembling mess for giving it, his glorious cock, to her.

_Focus, Clarke. Focus._

Clarke swallows and clears her throat.

Bellamy’s eyes snap to hers and—gulp—the heated look he gives her is everything.

And even if she soon has to beg on her knees utterly naked for his mercy, it was worth it.

 

#

 

_It’s been hours since she last saw him and tended to his wounds. Princess Caecia knows she did a good job, excellent even, but still. Open wounds like his can get easily infected. She can only hope he would listen to her this once and change the poultice._

_Or—_

_No. He would know exactly why she showed up there in the privacy of his chambers at this hour. He is too smart for his own good._

_So?_

_She could go and check on him._

_After another hour of deliberation, she gives in and slips into her soft-soled slippers._

_She is bathed and changed for bed. The thin coat over her shoulders is against the chill of the night. She had grown up around here, in the nearby villa and knows all the secret passages leading back to his quarters, to him, by heart._

_She didn’t get caught by anyone so far and she is taking extra measures not to get caught. Her hair is down and twisted on the sides, secured with a string of pale ribbons, like commoners’ daughter do._

_Her heart beats so fast like the first time—which seems like a lifetime ago—when she showed up at his bed, genuinely worried for his well-being. She has never, never imagined that he would take her to his bed and make her feel like he did. Sated. Complete. Not alone._

_It hadn’t been planned, per se. She definitely hadn’t gone there for sexual favours in exchange—but in the safety of the shadows of his room, only lit by the few torches across the wall facing the bed, there was something in the way he was looking at her, with big deep brown eyes, silently pleading to stay with him for a bit longer._

_An hour later, she woke to soft pants of her own, and a bulging erection to her back; wandering, heavy palms rubbing up and down on her arms, soothing, burning, then slowly moving to her chest._

_He wanted her. But she thinks she craved him more._

_Barbatius_ **_the Barbarian_** _._

_Barbatius_ **_the Warrior_** _._

_During the past months she kept finding herself back in his chambers, often naked in his bed, she got to know more of his faces._

_Barbatius_ **_the Brave_** _. Barbatius_ **_the Strong_** _. Barbatius_ **_the Caretaker_** _. Barbatius_ the _ **Cuddler**. Barbatius _ **_the_ ** _**Lover**_.

 

#

 

By the time her soft steps bring her at the foot of the quilts, her cunt is warm and swollen and the tiny thong Clarke left under the thin fabric is completely soaked.

It might be embarrassing if she were really Princess Caecia but as Clarke Griffin, she knows that her Barbatius (Bellamy) will be very pleased.

He shifts on the floor, drawing her eyes to his tanned calves and covered crotch as if he is sensing her arousal which in return feeds his own. She swears she can feel the call of his rock hard cock, dangerously similar to the lure of a Siren’s song;

 

_Come to me my love_

_Forget the land above_

_Dream your dreams with me_

_Slide beneath the sea_

_Kiss me my love_

_Come rest in my arms_

_Ahh, ahh, ahh_

 

Her body is on fire and they haven’t even touched yet.

 

#

 

_“What brings you back to my chambers, Princess? It’s been only a few hours—“_

 

#

 

Clarke has always felt hot and bothered reading and rereading that line but hearing it from Bellamy’s mouth is so much more potent.

Her cunt clenches in anticipation.

_Patience_ , she tells herself. _We play first._

She stops a foot short of him and runs her toes along his bare calf, up until his upper thigh. The feel of the hair on his skin is comforting.

She sees him shudder and rearrange his posture again, his eyes running along her curves unashamedly, never leaving her body.

She feels energized and powerful.

“I came to check on your wound, warrior.”

Bellamy’s eyes darken, “Did you now, _Princess_?” He raises an eyebrow. “At this hour?”

Clarke shrugs, and smiles coyly, making sure the movement draws attention to her breasts and hardened nipples.

Bellamy smirks widely, drawing his lips back enough to show his canines.

“I’m not complaining, you know. Especially — “ he shifts his weight to his left palm now finding purchase next to his knee. “—when you are dressed so nicely. For me.”

Clarke—Princess Caecia—huffs.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was already in bed and ready to sleep.”

“And? Couldn’t sleep thinking of me? Or, wait, you did, but your fingers were not thick enough?”

“You’re a barbarian,” she spits at him.

Bellamy scoots a little closer, as his other hand finds one of her exposed calves and squeezes.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he says with a wicked smirk.

“You’re a prick.”

He guffaws and leans back against the pillows, carefully pulling her with him.

Clarke almost loses her balance but manages to straighten herself with a hand on his naked shoulder.

“And yet, here you are and wanting more of that ‘prick’ in question.”

His palms are splayed fully on her calves now, he inches them higher.

“Or am I mistaken, Princess? In fact, you love this ‘prick’ so much that just a few hours ago, you took all of said prick in your greedy little mouth.“

Clarke shivers and squirms. A soft pant leaves her mouth—it wasn’t in the script but... soon, soon his hands will be high enough on her thighs to feel the physical evidence of her arousal.

“No. No, don’t be embarrassed, Princess. It was a pleasant surprise, I'll tell you that. I’m so sorry I didn’t get to return the favour earlier.. you were in too much of hurry to leave.”

His hands disappeared under her gown, and it doesn’t take long until he stiffens, and she knows he can feel the wetness trickling down the inside of her thighs.

His smile turns predatory on an instant.

“Oh, Princess. You are very naughty. Come here. Let me see—what do we have here, huh?”

Clarke moves involuntarily. She is keyed up so much—honestly, under normal circumstances, she’d be equally aroused— but Bellamy in the role of Barbatius is so sexy, his voice is so deep like she hasn’t heard before.

Bellamy lifts the thin fabric, head dangerously close to her heat. He leans closer, nose running along her clothed mound. He presses a hard kiss to her clit through the sodden fabric and she expects him to drag it down her legs next, just like he Barbatius would do. Instead, his teeth find her clit through the fabric and Clarke has to put a hand on his shoulders again to keep her balance.

The feel of his mouth is sweet, so sweet, she wants his mouth so bad.

“ _Clarke_ , you drive me crazy,” he utters between the bites.

Clarke responds with a whimper and he must catch himself because he places a final soft kiss to her mound before his teeth are catching in the string of the thong and start dragging, peeling it down her legs. It falls to her feet eventually and she steps out of it with one leg and kicks it away with the other.

The look Bellamy (Barbatius) is giving her is dark and heated, and she will definitely combust if he keeps looking at her like that.

In the corresponding chapter of _The Chronicles of Barbatius_ , Barbatius is sitting on the edge of his bed (close enough) with Princess Caecia standing between his legs, his palms are hot and solid presence against the back of her thighs.

And this is the point where she would push him away and tease him a little just to work him up. He might be putting up a cocky attitude but she knows, she knows deep in her bones that Barbatius wants her just as bad. It pains him just as much to let her go at the end of their coupling no matter what he says.

(The reader and Princess Caecia learn in Chapter 28, by overhearing a few of the servants gossip how he ceased to fuck and touch in any way any of the servants offered to him for sex somewhere around the three months mark of them sleeping together for the first time.

Barbatius doesn’t know that she knows.)

Back on track, Clarke puts a hand on his forehead, pushing him away from her body.

“Don’t,” she breathes.” Touch. Me.”

 

#

 

_He growls._

_“Don’t forget_ **_you_ ** _came to me. This is my chambers._ **_My bed. My rules_** _. I can do whatever the hell I want.”_

_In order to give emphasis to his words, he sucks a nipple into his mouth through the fabric, palming her other breast under her gown._

 

#

 

Bellamy helps her lift her leg over a shoulder and without any further pleasantries he dives forward and licks and sucks her clit into his mouth.

“So wet. Always so wet for me.”

He works her up with his mouth and teeth before his tongue does that flickering and flattening motion Bellamy does and drives her so mad with want she practically rides his face. His palms are guiding her hips, in slow circular motion, then fast and slow and fast and slow until her breathing turns ragged and he growls. Her hands leave his shoulders and grip his hair, moving his head, spurring him on.

 

#

 

_Taking him in her mouth earlier was good, and empowering; she felt amazing and something more—something more powerful than just a pretty face— giving him pleasure in a rather vulnerable moment, but damn him, he is so talented with his mouth. She thought she could drag this out for her own sake, like he often deliberately brings her to the edge, then suddenly eases up on the pressure and then he nips and sucks and licks her again and again until she begs for release._

_This is not one of those times._

_He is surprisingly soft, despite his earlier mocking teasing and the moment she feels herself close to release, she is already bracing herself for him to let up and torture her with his words and fingers and lips for a little more. But he lets her come, and she comes with a relieved whimper._

_He kisses her thigh, left, then right and softly takes her in his arms and undresses her._

_“Shhhh, it’s alright, Princess. Let me take care of you. Come, lay with me.”_

_He envelops her into his arms, nosing her neck, leaving small nibbling kisses on her skin._

_She feels his erection through the blanket._

_Maybe, their time together is not over yet._

 

#

 

The next piece of clothing that goes is the blanket Bellamy dressed in, a toga for Barbatius. He is not wearing underwear thankfully, his erect cock is a beautiful sight.

“I will give you my cock tonight, Princess if you want it.”

Here’s the thing, she always wants his cock, possibly, even more, when he says it so stupidly sweet and asking for permission, not just because Barbatius and Princess Caecia has penetrative sex in the story next.

 

#

 

_“I want it,” she mumbles. “You know I want your cock, more than I want—“_

_“—Careful there. Don’t say something you’d regret later.”_

_She sighs, turns in his arms, facing him._

_She closes the distance between them, their faces are close they are sharing breath._

_“I want to be on top.”_

 

#

 

Clarke and Bellamy have forgone the condoms after a few months, and he can enter her without any interruptions. He flips them, a wicked smile blooming on his face.

“My bed. My rules.”

The tip of his cock is probing at her entrance, and he reaches down with a hand to help guide himself, two of his fingers sliding up and down along her slit. “Still wet,” he grins. “Your pussy is so hungry for a real meal, is it?”

“I—“

“No shame in it, sweetheart. Let me feed it.”

Princess Caecia—in agreement with Clarke—nods eagerly, biting on her bottom lip to play along and Bellamy trusts into her. She gasps, he grunts and keeps up a steady pace until his shaft is almost completely swallowed by her hot cunt.

He gets hold of her right thigh and slowly turns them, Clarke’s stomach on the covers at first as they move in synch and she pushes herself on her elbows and knees, Bellamy’s body is towering above her, fucking into her from behind. It’s almost too much. Almost. The position lets him fuck into her deeper and often when they have sex like this, the feel of his skin against her back combined with the passionate bites he leaves on her skin and the thought of having him so deep inside her as if they are one, alone brings her to the edge. She cranes her neck for a kiss, he complies willingly. She cups his balls with a hand, because she can and she likes bending those rules, any time she can get.

He is breathing harder now.

“You’re taking my cock so well... You should see what I see. So gorgeous.“

At times she lets her head drop, she can see his shaft moving in and out of her. She can see his balls slapping against her backside.

“Can you feel it? Can you feel my cock buried so deep inside you? Your pussy is hungry, so, so hungry. Look at your cunt taking me so deep.”

She can tell he’s close, his movements turning more erratic is a telltale sign.

“So hungry,” she pants in response, back arching and pushing back into him.” I love it. I love it when you take me like this. You are ravenous. Love it so, so much.”

And she thinks they will come like that, considering his fingers splayed on her stomach are reaching down to flick and rub at her clit from time to time. But he slows their movements, kisses her temple and says, “Ride me.”

He pulls out and she climbs on top of him, reclaiming his cock. She grinds her hips, his palms alternating between cupping her breasts and guiding her hips.

They kiss or try to, but they are both too desperate to come, filling the room with the smell of sex.

His eyes turn glassy soon enough, and she rides him slower now, long and deep. His thumb is back at her clit before he comes and the pressure is just right to make her stumble over the edge as well and give herself over to the sweet feeling spreading into every cell of her body.

 

#

 

_“This was the last time. I mean it this time._

_“Sure it was,” he parrots._

_He helps her dress in her gown and kisses her forehead when he helps her into the thin overcoat she used as an extra layer to cover herself._

_She looks him in the eyes one last time before she turns and leaves with a soft sad smile._

_After, he settles back to the bed, still naked. No one, none of the servants will question him if he wakes up like this, in his god given state of nakedness. He is not ashamed of his body or the implications of what he did in his own bed; nor shy, they saw him naked many times before—practically every time before and after the arena._

_His palm finds the warm dent the Princess has left behind in his bed, on the covers, and lets his fingers trace it, memorize the form, soaking in her lingering warmth, enjoying her scent._

_“Until next time.”_

_His speaks the words out loud, speaking, willing them into existence. His lips twitch in amusement, savouring their time together into his memory once more before sleep takes him over._

 

#

 

“Please tell me they end up together and have babies.”

Bellamy’s happy laugh warms her heart. “No can do, Princess. That’s a huge spoiler. “

“Romance killer,” she mumbles grudgingly.

“They sort of, not admittedly, love each other. Isn’t that enough?”

“But they don’t know! Princess Caecia suspects. But she doesn’t _know_ know. And—“ she huffs in frustration,”—Barbatius is such a tool sometimes!”

“Hey, that’s my son we are talking about.”

“I love him, but you know what I mean! Why can't they just— _ugh!_ I don’t know, sit down and talk about their feelings like normal people do.”

“That would be too easy now, wouldn’t it? Also, mind the tags. ‘Slow Burn’ is there for a reason.”

“It is slow and it burns, alright. I practically combust after each and every chapter. From frustration, because A, they are so intense with each other and don’t talk about the why or B, the smut is so hot, I need to take a shower.”

“Oh, really?” he grins and drags himself closer to her. “Not to brag, but I can be of service  with taking off that edge.” He deepens his voice and in his Barbatius voice, he adds, “ _Anytime, Princess._ ”

She chuckles and gives him a full smile.

“I’ll take you up on that in about two minutes... But before that, would you at least tell me what she wanted to say when she said ‘she wanted him more than she wanted to—’“

“Technically, she said she wanted ‘his cock’ more than _redacted_.”

“Schemantics.”

“No can do. It’s a journey. Sometimes the journey is more important than the end.”

“You—“ she gapes at him which soon turns into a pout. “ _Part of the journey is the end._ ”

“Says who?”

“Tony Stark.”

He chuckles. “Clarke, I’m pretty sure you don’t want that ending.”

His eyes soften, he reaches over and tucks a stray curl behind her ear.

“You know what? I don’t want their story to end. Sometimes, it’s better to leave it open-ended and imagine a hundred different scenarios of hot sex.”

“Do you now?” He pushes himself up on his elbows, and soon she finds herself tucked under his warm body, hot breath tickling her lips.” Are you gonna help me with research?”

“As long as you help me taking off _that edge._ ”

Bellamy clears his throat.

“ _My bed. My rules, Princess_ ,” he rumbles against her neck in his deep Barbatius voice.

It’s a promise.

 

#


End file.
